


In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle....

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Desk Sex, M/M, Peter Hale does what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles eyes him suspiciously. Nothing good can come of this, but Peter’s wearing leather pants, so he figures it’s worth going along just for that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiranightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/gifts).



> Gift fic for kiranightshade for correctly guessing the name of Peter's bar.
> 
>  
> 
> Based on the prompt "What if they went to the club together (for whatever reason tale your pick) and either Peter gets shit for his age or Stiles gets shit for "bestiality" and then the one goes mama bear for the other."
> 
> As you can see, Peter does what he wants. 
> 
> Edited 25/05/17 because my twitchy perfectionist self just had to fix a couple of things. Just dusted round the edges, and spruced it up,added a little. No big plot changes, I promise.
> 
> Also, this takes place after Into the Woods, but before Run Rabbit run :)
> 
> 27/05/17 - Suddenly an unexpected second chapter appears!

“ Bullshit” states Stiles bluntly.

“I assure you, dear boy, it’s true” Peter intones, standing in front of Stiles in tight leather pants,  and his trademark v necked t shirt, this one cut a little deeper than normal, the shirt a little tighter. He’s wearing leather wrist cuffs and a gold chain round his neck. He’s dressed for a night out.

“I’m taking you out to Jungle tonight, because I love to dance and I feel like a change of pace”

 “I  thought we were never going back after last time”’ Stiles challenges.

Last time had ended with Stiles nursing a black eye and bruised knuckles. The evening had descended into chaos after he punched a guy who’d  sneered at him  “You’re  nothing but Hale’s bitch, fucking a werewolf man, that’s sick” simply because Stiles had refused a dance and told him he was there with Peter.  

“I heard that guy got barred” Peter states blandly.

Stiles eyes him suspiciously. Nothing good can come of this, but Peter’s wearing leather pants, so he figures it’s worth going along just for that.

 

When they arrive, they are somehow waved in ahead of the line, Peter’s doing he’s sure, and as they enter they are assaulted by a wall of sound.  They make their way to the bar and get their drinks, and as Stiles looks around, he notices that the crowd is gathering expectantly at the stage. He turns to ask Peter what’s going on, but he’s disappeared. Stiles is craning his neck looking for him when the music cuts out suddenly.

The generic heavy bass beat is replaced by a smooth string intro, and suddenly, a familiar lyric echoes throughout the club. It’s Stile’s favorite - he sings it in the shower. (He shamelessly loves Buble, telling Peter "come on, that dude is smooth as fuck"- Peter thinks it's cute.)

“Birds flying high, you know how I feel….”  and stiles has only a minute to wonder why Jungle is even playing Michael Buble, when he realises  there’s a figure  on stage under a spotlight, and Stiles can’t breathe, because even though the man has his back to the crowd, he would recognize that tight ass anywhere.  A  pole. There’s a pole on stage somehow, and now Stiles is pushing his way to the front, eyes wide. What the fuck is this?

Peter is dancing.

He’s turned to face the crowd now, and is stalking across the stage like a damn cat, rolling his hips as he walks, and rubbing his body against the pole sinuously. He turns so the pole is at his back, and runs his hands up over his head to grab on, one leg bent at the knee and back against the pole, looking like a wet dream as he catches Stiles eye and licks his lips.

He poses there, hips rolling in time to the music, before removing one hand, snicking out one claw, and deliberately tearing his shirt right down the centre and casting it aside. Then he suddenly grabs the pole again and just…lifts himself up, his body arching out at a ninety degree angle, his wolf strength making it seem effortless as he holds himself there, chest gleaming under the lights.

Stiles whimpers, but he’s not the only one. He’s surrounded by whoops and whistles, as Peter slowly starts his body rotating round the pole, steadily at first but picking up speed until he’s spinning freely, the smile on his face truly joyful.

He starts to slow again, bringing his knees up, and then it’s his legs around the pole and his arms flung out, back arched in a deep curve with his head pointing at the ground as he spins easily.

What follows is a thing of beauty. Peter changes positions fluidly, arching back around to grab the pole as he flips from position to position to match the music, moving up and down the pole, his abs rippling, his ass flexing, pulling off a dance routine that has Stile’s mouth watering. At one Stage Peter has one leg wrapped round the pole backwards, back against the pole, his other knee braced around the pole so that it looks like he’s flying as he turns, and in those tight pants everything is on display and Stiles can see that Peter’s as turned on by this as he is. At one stage he slides to the ground and does the splits, before honest to God _leaping up onto the pole,_ making it look effortless.

Peter gracefully somersaults off the pole as the song nears its end, and as the final notes of "Feeling Good"play, he dramatically grabs the waist of his pants and _pulls,_ and Stiles hears the sound of Velcro among the screams and cheers that surround him . Peter stands there, triumphant, grinning and holding the pants in one hand, revealing tight black boxer briefs underneath. He throws the pants at Stiles.

Stiles drops them in shock.

And then Peter's gone, walking off stage, leaving  the crowd going wild.

 

As Stiles tries to process what he’s just seen, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

It’s one of the bouncers, saying “Excuse me Sir, but I’ve been asked to bring you to see the owner. “  Stiles bites back a curse, thinking that he’s been recognized from last time and that he's about to be banned like that other douchebag.

They make their way through the back corridors to a small office, where the bouncer leaves him standing in from of the door. It’s ajar, so Stiles knocks and lets himself in.

Peter’s already there, wearing just a robe over his underwear, and Stiles is momentarily distracted by abs.

Gathering his thoughts, he asks Peter, “The owner want to see you too? I guess we’re both banned huh?”

Peter turns to him, grinning smugly.

“Oh, I don’t think so rabbit, why would I ban us from our own club?”

 

Stiles’ eyes go wide, as his brain catches up. “You _bought this place?”_

“Well, obviously, somebody had to make sure you were safe when you go out, and it seemed like the easiest solution” Peter purrs. ”You know I dabble in real estate.”

Stiles is across the office and climbing Peter like a tree seconds after he slams the door and locks it.

Feeling Good, indeed.

 


	2. Accidental Nightclub acquisition 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or how exactly Peter Hale ended up as a pole dancer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I didn't mean for there to be any more to this than some harmless booty shaking, but a second chapter appeared......

 

Peter is the first to admit that he usually gets what he wants.

But not today, apparently.

because  what he _wants_ is to rip the throat out of the dick who had given Stiles a black eye the night before.

The only thing stopping him is that  a) He’s promised Stiles he won’t murder or maim anyone, and b) Stiles gave as good as he got last night – Peter’s fairly sure the guy had a broken nose by the end of it.

Still, as he lays in bed in the morning light, he thinks to himself that he may need to go and have a chat with the owner at Jungle about who he’s letting into his club.

He can hear that Stiles is up- the shower is running, there’s the sound of a keyboard and the swell of brass floating out from his speakers, and the unmistakable sound of  Stiles massacring  the classics.

The sound becomes clearer as the water turns off, and Stiles twirls as he enters the room, warbling “I’ve got yooooouuuuuuuu…..under my skiiiiiin. I’ve got yooouuuu, deeeep in the heart of meeeeeee…….”, drying himself as he sings and dances.

Peter smiles as Stiles shimmies over to the bed, belting out the big notes shamelessly, arm held out, inviting Peter to dance with him, and who could resist an invitation like that?

He slides out of the bed, grabs Stiles, and drops him onto a dip, before twirling him out and then in again, ending up with his arms wrapped around the younger man in a hug.   The sway gently to the music for a while, Stiles pouting when the song ends and Peter lets him go.

”Aw man” he grouses, “I was  just getting into that, dance with me some more Wolfman”.   

Peter arches his eyebrows, amused.  “Really Stiles?  Buble? This early?”

They’ve had this discussion before, but Peter finds it so entertaining to get Stiles wound up defending the singer that he can’t help himself. He waits for the normal arguments about how the Canadian is “Smooth as fuck, man” but today they don’t come.

Stiles shoulders droop, and he says “Yeah yeah, lame, I know, I just felt like something to pick my mood up a little after last night, you know?” and he looks a little bit fragile , so Peter doesn’t tease him any further, instead he snuggles the young man to his chest and takes the lead as the next track starts, humming along to the strains of “Come fly with me”.

He definitely needs to go to the Jungle and have a discussion.

By the end of the dance Stiles has perked up again, mumbling into Peter’s chest, “You’ve got some wicked werewolf dance mojo going on Peter, seriously. I could do this all day. “

And Peter replies “As you wish” and continues to sway and move while Stiles grins, and mocks him for quoting the Princess Bride.

 

Eventually dancing gives way to smooching, gives way to hand jobs, which means a shower for them both. Stile’s mood has improved, his eye doesn’t hurt anymore because Peter has drained any pain for him, and he assures the wolf that he’s completely over the events of last night, and he doesn’t care if they never go there again, he promises, and no Peter, killing people who upset me is _still_ bad, we had this discussion remember?

But still, as stated, Peter tends to get what he wants, and what he wants is for them to be able to go out and dance sometimes without Stiles getting punched in the face.

 

So while Stiles is at work, he drives down to the club, and goes in to see the manager. It’s early afternoon, so they’re not open, but he knows where the side door is and lets himself in. He's only planning some minor threatening behaviour, honest.

When he goes to the little office , the owner is there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hale” he nods curtly to Peter.

“Curtis” Peter acknowledges  back. “I’m here because my boyfriend was punched in the face last night as well as being verbally abused by one of your patrons.”

The man rolls his eyes, and stares “I don’t care. “

Peter looks at him with an arched brow, ”what do you mean you don’t care?”

“I. Do. Not Care” the man enunciates. “Do you know how many fights we have here? How many guys getting off in the bathrooms? How many puddles of sick in the corners? I’m done. I’m only still here to keep the bank happy. If I could afford to walk away, I would.”

Peter is a little surprised by the outburst, but recovers quickly and grabs the opportunity with both hands. He asks “How much? To keep the bank happy?”

Now it’s Curtis’ turn to look surprised, but also calculating, and Peter thinks that the man obviously can’t play poker worth a damn, because his emotions are all over his face.

Peter isn’t stupid, and he does actually play around in real estate quite a lot, so he knows roughly what the club is worth. He adds half again, writes the figure on a sheet of paper, and slides it across the table.

“Cash” he states  “On two conditions”

“It’s walk in, walk out,lock stock and barrel. I can have my attorney draft the papers today and we can be done in 24 hours; and you tell nobody about this, it’s a surprise. Word gets out before I’m ready for it to, and I halve the offer”

Curtis gapes like a fish but he doesn’t say no.

Peter rings his lawyer and they have the paperwork done and dusted by the close of business the next day. Sometimes, Peter thinks, there are advantages to being independently wealthy.

True to his word (although probably because Peter had written it into his sale contract) Curtis tells nobody, and so no one thinks too much of it when painters and decorators start to file in and out of the club. Peter manages the renovations skillfully, and the place only ends up closed for two weeks.

In those two weeks, Peter goes through the staff files, calling them in one by one and introducing himself as a Staffing Consultant. He asks them what they like and don’t like about working there. He asks them about the pay and conditions. He takes on board what they tell him about the darker aspects of the club. He asks what they’d like to see, and is  intrigued at the number of them who confess they’d love to see stripper poles.

He’s pleasantly surprised to discover that the staff are actually pretty good, bar one or two who simply have to go (including the guy who offers to blow him if he gets him more hours without an ounce of shame) and the business has the potential to be a nice little side earner if managed properly.  Although he doesn’t need to work, it doesn’t mean he’s not happy to make a decent profit.

He also asks about any patrons who are aggressive, who should be banned, who are prone to hate speech or bullying, taking careful note of names. He promised Stiles he wouldn’t murder or maim, but that doesn’t mean he can’t bar the bastards.

Those stripper poles, though, he thinks about those a lot.

 

His research had started out as nothing more than trawling through YouTube watching men pole dancing, just to see if it was something Beacon Hills was ready for. He fell down the rabbit hole fairly quickly, losing most of a day following the links, and becoming increasingly convinced that it would put Jungle on the map, if he could get good enough dancers.

He’d been so engrossed that he didn’t look away from the screen when Stiles walked in, coming up behind him and hugging him while looking at the screen.

“Hmmmm, you’d look hot on a pole” Stiles hummed in his ear.   They watched together for a while, but Stiles proved to be too great a distraction when he started running his hands over Peter’s body, finally spinning his computer chair around and kneeling in front of it.

“I’d hate to think you’re paying those guys more attention than me, Wolfman” he cooed, looking up at Peter through his eyelashes, and the videos were forgotten as threw him over his shoulder and carried him off to bed.

Well, almost forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter’s owned the club for a month now, and the renovations were finished this morning. He looks over his new club with satisfaction, pleased with the changes he’s wrought.

 

The poles look amazing.

 

He reaches out his hand and gently grips one, swaying gently, and thinking.  It  feels good, and he idly puts the other hand on the pole, still swinging.

He hears a voice behind him, the last of the tradesmen leaving the building.

“You gonna be the new Jungle’s opening act?’ the man quips.

Peter just looks at him coolly.

“Hey no offence man “the guy quickly assures him “I just meant you’d be good at that shit. I mean, wolf stamina and a pole? I’m straight as they come, and _I’d_ pay to see that.”

Peter’s face relaxes a little.

The guy smiles back, waving as he leaves, and as he goes out the door Peter hears him call back “As long as it’s decent music, none of this techno crap!”

 

After the place is empty, he approaches the pole with a little more purpose.

He pulls himself up, climbing to the top, just to try it, just to see how it feels.

It feels….good.  He’s reached the top with no problem, so he wraps his legs around, carefully gripping with his thighs, leans back slightly, and then lets go with one hand, testing. He releases the other hand, and is surprised by the tug he feels in his abs as his muscles are suddenly forced to support him. He holds on though, and the ache disappears quickly enough. He balances there, arching backwards, and starts to grin.

Because he’s always struggled to find ways to provide for Stiles outside of sex, but now suddenly all the pieces click into place, and damn, he has the perfect plan.

Here’s something he can give his boy.  And he even has the right music, God help him.

It takes a solid three weeks of practice before he’s confident. It only takes a week until he’s competent, but competent isn’t good enough for Stiles.

So he practices until he’s _smooth,_ until he’s _slick,_ until he’s fan _-fucking-tastic_.

He’s going to _wreck_ Stiles, and then he’s going to tell him about the club.

 

 

Peter leaves Stiles at the bar and slips out the back of the club, giving the nod to the DJ when he’s ready to start.

The look on Stiles’ face when Peter catches his eye and lick his lips as he starts to dance is worth _everything._  

Peter flows through the moves effortlessly, but his mind isn’t on the crowd, or on the dance, but on the flushed face at the front of the stage. Stile’s eyes are bright with excitement, he’s open-mouthed in frank amazement, and when Peter executes the splits easily and then leaps up  the pole, He sees Stiles mouth forming “Holy Fuck” even though he can’t hear him over the sounds of the crowd going wild.

His inner wolf is also going absolutely _wild_ , reveling in the feeling of pleasing his boy.

As the music finishes and he rips off his leather pants, he’s grinning wildly. He throws his pants to Stiles and sees him drop them in shock, and turns of his heel and leaves the stage, ignoring the whistles and applause and calls for more.

 

He heads down to the small office, throwing a robe over his underwear and downing a bottle of water in one gulp.

Then he settles into a chair to wait for the bouncer to follow his instructions and bring Stiles to see him.

When Stiles arrives Peter can’t miss the hungry glance that rakes up and down his body.

He asks Peter, “The owner want to see you too? I guess we’re both banned huh?”

Peter turns to him, grinning smugly.

“Oh, I don’t think so rabbit, why would I ban us from our own club?”

 

Stiles’ eyes go wide, as his brain catches up. “You _bought this place?”_

“Well, obviously, somebody had to make sure you were safe when you go out, and it seemed like the easiest solution” Peter purrs. ”You know I dabble in real estate.”

Stiles is across the office and climbing Peter like a tree seconds after he slams the door and locks it.

 

Stiles strips off his shirt and jeans before pushing Peter’s robe off his shoulders.

He presses their bodies together hard, and grinds against Peter’s crotch, breathing out “You bought the club. You bought the club and you did a motherfucking _pole dance._ Best boyfriend EVER. ”

He follows up this declaration by grinding a little more, grinning, and whispering in Peter’s ear,  “so does this mean you can fuck me across the desk and we won’t get in trouble for it? I’ve locked the door, just in case.”

Peter smirks. He drags Stiles in for another kiss, hands roaming freely over his ass, causing Stiles to moan and say “please tell me you’ve got lube Peter, oh God, please tell me…”

And Peter, because he knows Stiles, and could have predicted this outcome, takes great pleasure in pulling his flask of oil from the pocket of his robe.

It’s short work to lay Stiles on his back across the desk, to stretch and lube him as he moans and pants, and press into him. Stiles is still incredibly turned on from watching Peter’s performance, and he strokes himself as Peter hammers into him, fast and dirty.

Peter withdraws suddenly, earning him a whine, and pulls Stiles forwards to the edge of the desk. He presses his knees back against his chest, and still standing, thrusts forwards into Stiles’ willing body. The angle’s different for Stiles, the thrusts hitting deeper, and he cries out in pleasure. Peter’s very good at what he does, and he manages to stimulate Stile’s prostate enough that soon he’s close to coming.

“Close, Peter” he moans out, even as he tugs and pulls at his leaking cock, and Peter obliges by snapping his hips forwards even faster, driving in at a pace that’s near frantic.  He leans forwards and sucks at Stile’s throat, leaving a dark bruise high up on his neck, and that stimulation is what causes Stiles to spasm beneath him as he comes wildly, spurting onto his belly and over his hand.

His hole tightens exquisitely round Peter’s shaft, and one, two three more pumps of his hips and he’s done, driving home with a grunt and a growl. He lowers Stiles legs down gently and stands there, panting.

Suddenly, Peter cocks his head to the side, listening, and then smiles widely.

“Darling, I think we’re going to have to move, I’m needed”

Stiles looks confused.”What? Peter, why the hell would we move from here?”

And Peter grins even wider, and telling Stiles “Can’t you hear the crowd? It seems it’s time for my encore.”

He dances to Def Leppard this time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I selflessly did research for this, you can too! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bssTmG2Y1i8
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4pvZplI4PE
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCKHlYhz2Xw


End file.
